


your heart, a pomegranate

by perfectpro



Series: Overlapping Orbits [3]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: Klaus can’t believe they’ve found themselves here. The years they were apart weren’t wasted, because there is nothing he enjoys more than getting to know the woman they created.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: Overlapping Orbits [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131002
Comments: 14
Kudos: 82





	your heart, a pomegranate

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired from Hayley Heynderickx's song, Oom Sha La La which I've been playing on repeat since I first listened to it last week.
> 
> _If you don't go outside, nothing's gonna happen  
> ...  
> She'll never get to eat you like your heart's a pomegranate_

A year spent in Klaus’s Florentine villa goes by quicker than she thinks either of them were prepared for. Caroline is ready to go out into the world once more, to see the underbellies of the stones she has not yet upturned. They have lingered in the Italian countryside long enough that the town recognizes them, and the barista at the local coffeehouse has Caroline’s expresso order ready before she gets to the counter. Signs that it is time to move on, at least for now.

“Lead the way,” Klaus tells her when she asks where he’d like to go next.

His trust is something that he gives to her freely, and she knows to guard it with care. He opened his life to her without question when she showed up to her door. The first thing he did when he saw her was offer his blood, and they had not spoken for more than two centuries. 

The time has come for her to let him into the life that she has crafted for herself in those years spent apart.

Most of her time was spent traveling, but she was not so nomadic as to keep from setting up places of respite. On the contrary, the world is littered with nooks and crannies that she calls her own. A villa in Champagne, an apartment in Amsterdam, townhomes in Paris and London, a penthouse suite in Dubai. Her time at them has been sporadic, but she’s stayed at each long enough to give them personal touches, enough to feel at home as soon as she walks through the door. 

She books the tickets and orders the rental car, and he doesn’t press for details other than asking what type of weather he should pack for. There was the option of having another layover instead of the last flight, but Caroline prefers driving over flying. Something about rattling about in a metal box 30,000 feet in the air gives her a touch of anxiety.

Klaus doesn’t make fun of her fear, doesn’t ask how she’s dealt with her travel lifestyle thus far, and he doesn’t point out that she’d be alright even if something were to happen. He holds her hand during each takeoff and landing, and she lets herself take comfort in his presence.

When they touch ground in San Francisco, he watches her secure the rental car before asking, “Would you like to tell me where we’re going so that I can drive while you take a nap?”

The offer is tempting, because they’ve been traveling for almost a full day, but she caught some sleep on the last flight. “And ruin the surprise?” she questions him archly. They haven’t come all this way for her to hand over the directions without a fight.

He holds his hands up in deference, and Caroline once again wonders how many people that Klaus would let take him somewhere. Excluding his siblings, it’s probably a number that could be counted on one hand. She’s lucky to include herself among them, and it’s something she shouldn’t take for granted. 

The drive from San Francisco is only a little more than two hours in traffic, and Klaus watches the scenery change with interest, the city and then the suburbs fading gradually until at last they’re driving through California wine country. “You brought me all the way from Florence, Italy to show me some vineyards in California?” he asks, laughter plain in his voice.

“I brought you all the way from Florence to show you my vineyard,” she finally admits, turning up the long drive. The harvest will be good this year, she knows from the research she’s done and the reports that she’s been reading. The grape vines look good, the leaves strong and vibrant.

She doesn’t look at his face, not even in the mirror, but his silence gives away his surprise all the same.

“I haven’t been by in a while, but I need to help get some things sorted for the next season. I thought you might enjoy coming with me.” They make another turn, this time to a private path, and she keys in her entry code with practiced fingers. 

Her mom’s birthday, something she’ll never be able to forget.

The gate pulls back, and Klaus settles his hand over hers. “Is this trip for business, then, or pleasure?”

A smile curves her mouth, and she tells him, “I’ve gotten to learn so much about you by snooping at your place. I thought it was time to give you an opportunity to do the same.”

Over the first few weeks they’d spent together, Caroline had enjoyed learning the halls of his home. What books had their spines cracked, what canvases in his studio were in progress. Even the plants in the garden seemed like secrets to unwind and learn, to find him in. He’d made room for her, in the closet and everywhere else, but the knick-knacks she’d collected at artists’ markets surely wouldn’t tell him as much as an entire home that she’d put together piece by piece.

“And here I thought I would have to pull all of your secrets from the source,” he says at last. 

When they finally make the turn that brings her house into view, she tries to imagine seeing it from his eyes. It’s helpful that she hasn’t been here in years, and there’s a sense of novelty in the experience.

The nineteenth century building had been restored with care, and Caroline had overseen each detail from the stonework to the exact specifications of the kitchen appliances. Of all of her homes scattered through the world, this is the one she has put the most effort into. 

They park the car outside the front door, and Caroline makes a mental note to have it returned to the rental agency in the morning. 

“It’s strange to have you here.” She thought it would feel more natural, but no one has ever been here with her except for some of the assistants and managers for the vineyard.

The key slips into the lock, finding its home with ease, and the snick when it catches is loud in the quiet night. Opening the door to her foyer is anticlimactic in some sense, as though it should have changed while she was away.

Klaus lingers at the threshold, but she waves him inside. “I already compelled the property manager to let you in; you’re good.”

His feet cross the barrier without issue, and he sets their bags down while looking around the entryway for clues of her life before she came to him. “Why is it strange for me to be here, with you?” The question is asked lightly, but she can read his true meaning plainly.

He wants to know if she wants him or if she is doing this out of some sense of obligation. As though she would have any attachment to the human concept of responsibility anymore. He knows her well, though, because she still does a great many things out of obligation, despite being supernatural.

Every year, she sends Elena and Stefan birthday cards. Damon gets a death day card because she’s petty like that, and Bonnie’s children and grandchildren get cards and cash every Christmas and birthday. 

“I’ve never had anyone over before,” she admits. The lights flicker on as they make their way through the room and to the stairs.

She has friends, of course. Connections that have been forged over various situations, but having him in her home is more intimate than she’s ever been before, even over their past year together. Tender and fragile, as though she would bruise if he regarded it the wrong way. 

“Not anyone?” He leans down to whisper the words hotly into her ear.

Klaus is many things, but he’s never been good at concealing his intentions, and even if he were she’s gotten good at reading his meaning. She flushes at the implication when he pushes her hair out of the way before pressing a kiss to her neck.

She’s immediately glad that she called ahead to make sure everything would be prepared for them when they arrived, including fresh sheets.

-x-

In the morning light, Klaus can appreciate Caroline’s tastes better. The house is assembled like a home, and while it’s somewhat obvious that it hasn’t been lived in recently, there’s still a sense of care in how it’s been put together. Lush rugs spread over the hardwood floors, linen curtains pulled back with handwoven tassels, and bookshelves filled with romance novels that she blushes at the mention of.

“Do you perhaps need some inspiration for your fantasies?” he asks before he can help himself, picking up one with a cover that showcases a man with rippling abs holding a sword.

She tugs the sheet up to cover her face, one hand emerging in a rude gesture he doesn’t acknowledge.

“No, love, truly. If I’m not enough, please tell me if you’d prefer anything different.” Teasing her is always fun, especially when she lifts her head just enough to glare at him over the sheet.

“Just so you know, I don’t tell my fantasies to people who are mean to me,” Caroline points out.

He volleys back without thinking. “You’ve already told me a good number; I shall survive. Plus, I think I could glean a good many more from these volumes.” It’s only when he opens the book that she throws the blankets off and attempts to wrestle it from him.

“Put that down; you are so embarrassing,” she hisses, but she lets her protests die on her lips when he flips them and presses her back into the mattress. They lose a bit of time that way, claiming each other once more on her bed, and he loves her like this. Truly unashamed, grown into the kind of creature who is no longer so hung up on human morals and customs. 

The kind of woman he’d always thought her capable of becoming.

Curled into his chest, she watches him through her sapphire eyes, quiet and content.

He’s never been able to leave well enough alone. Even as a child, every wound was poked at to reinvestigate the pain, to be able to have an accurate account of everything. It drove his siblings crazy.

“I noticed a good number of them were period pieces. Periods which I lived through, as it so happens,” he starts, grabbing her wrists in one of his hands and holding her still when she moves to roll off. “Perhaps you’d like for me to tell you about the princess who first wore the bracelet I gave to you. The one who was almost as beautiful as yourself.”

She glares at him, flaring her nostrils as she announces, “You aren’t half as charming as you think you are.” The dilation of her pupils is what gives her away.

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m twice as charming as you care to admit,” he counters, pushing her body up onto the pillows as he moves down it, trailing kisses on her stomach as he goes.

Whatever complaint she was going to try to pass off of as genuine turns into a moan in her throat when he parts her legs and places his mouth at her center. Her hands fly into his hair, holding him where she needs him, and he sees no reason to keep such a tempting creature waiting.

-x-

They pass the weekend that way, and the only parts of her house that he sees are the bedroom, the kitchen, and then path between. Caroline ensures the house always has a fresh supply of blood bags on hand. Not his favorite, but he’s made do with worse.

Besides, the idea of leaving her in order to get a meal isn’t worth what he’d be giving up.

The kitchen is state of the art, and she admits to having some renovations done when she knew they’d be coming here. She cooks more than he does, drawn to flavor in a way that he doesn’t understand. 

Human food is fine, but it is unnecessary, and he’s never gone out of his way for it. So many of Caroline’s travels revolve around food and its culture, stories about spices and recipes passed through generations.

She has given up so much that she still clung to as a new vampire, and yet she speaks of humans still as though they are something to be cherished.

“I’ve got a meeting to go over some stuff and make sure I haven’t missed too much while I’ve been away,” she explains to him as she gets dressed on Monday morning. Her hair twisted out of her face, balanced on red-soled high heels that complement the black pencil skirt and matching blazer. The white button up shirt that she wears looks formal and businesslike, and Klaus looks forward to ripping it open upon her return, imagining the buttons scattering across the floor.

“I’ll be here when you return,” he answers her, watching as she fishes a pair of pearl earrings out from a jewelry box on the dressing and making a mental note to explore that later.

She looks at him through the mirror and smiles, the expression softening her eternally young features. “I forgot to tell you, but I ordered some stuff for you; they should be in the room next door. And if you want a real meal, there’s a tasting happening at three. Should be pretty easy to grab someone and get out, so long as you leave them alive. I don’t want to worry about the effect on tourism.”

Her consideration astounds him, and he pushes the blankets off to kiss her cheek and help her with her necklace. Their reflections stare back at them, frozen in time. 

“I’ll see you,” he tells her at the door before she leaves, standing in the entryway with a mug of warmed blood in his hand. 

With her gone, he heads back inside to investigate further. 

The jewelry case holds an opal necklace and matching set of earrings, Caroline’s birthstone. An old charm bracelet that he remembers from the first time that he saw her, a small wolf dangling from the silver chain. A memento of a former love who she’ll never see again, a man who’s been dead so long that anyone else would have forgotten him.

Klaus had expected jealousy to spawn at the sight, but he feels nothing except for faint gratification at the glimpse of her that he’s been trusted with. That bracelet is lumped in with other things that he assumes are from Caroline’s former life in Mystic Falls, including a high school ring.

The other drawers hold different artifacts, one being the bracelet he’d give to her long ago. A set of gold wedding bands with a date inscribed on the inside that indicates they’d belonged to her parents.

Most of his curiosity sated, he makes his way to the next room, the one she had indicated had some things in it for him. “Oh, love,” he says when he opens the door. It’s an office, or at least it used to be. The desk is shoved against the wall now, and an easel has been placed in front of a window.

A stack of blank canvases leans against the desk, and a box of oil paints in his preferred brand is next to them with a note on top.

_Figured you’d need something to keep you busy. I plan on needing many of your original works to put on display at the winery. You can hold a show if you’d like!_

They’re going to be here a while; there’s no need to hunt out every surprise on the first day. Looking outside to get a sense of the scenery at his disposal, he reaches in the box to find a pallet and a set of paintbrushes. If he’s going to hold a show, he’d better get started.

-x-

She feels guilty when she sends bottles of the latest vintage to Damon, Stefan, and Elena. She hasn’t seen them in years, and Elena and Damon are human. Years matter to them in a way that she isn’t sure can ever really understand again. When Elena woke up, she asked Caroline if not having a family ever got easier.

Elena has always been surrounded by love. Stefan and Damon would do anything for her, and Caroline almost told her that before deciding to hold her tongue. She knows that’s not what Elena meant.

“It gets easier, but not in the way you think. You just… You forget,” she whispers, ashamed to admit it. When she looks at photographs of her mother, she has trouble remembering what her laugh sounded like. Had to go and hunt down the perfume she wore, long since discontinued, to remind herself of what Liz Forbes smelled like on the rare occasion she wasn’t acting as sheriff at an event.

When Elena dies, so will the last attachment Caroline has to her human life.

Well, unless Stefan counts, but he was always more involved in her supernatural life. They don’t keep in great touch anyway, because he’s never been able to look at her and not act like he wishes she was someone else. Caroline gave up on trying to be anyone else a long time ago.

“You look sad,” Klaus comments. He’s paint-splattered and content in the way he only gets when he’s finally managed to get the image on the canvas to match that in his head. There is a stain on his pant leg that could be blood or paint.

It’s startling to realize that she doesn’t feel the need to ask.

She tapes the last of the boxes shut and grabs her pen to address them. “Not sad,” she says, but it’s a weak objection at best. “Just thinking.”

He comes closer, tucks an errant curl behind her ear. “Tell me,” he says, because he’s never gotten into the habit of phrasing things as a question. Just a consequence of having his every whim met for the last twelve hundred years or so.

When she says it, she’s surprised to find just how much she’s been unwilling to admit, even to herself. “I’m not the same person I used to be, and I think I should feel bad about it.” She keeps her hands busy, scrawling the winery’s address on the left-hand corner of the first box.

“Even humans change,” he responds. He doesn’t ask what’s brought on this seemingly abrupt shift in the conversation, just lets her go with it, unwilling to disturb her process.

That’s true, of course, and she isn’t vain enough to think that she’d have been the same person as an older human as she was at seventeen, but that’s also not the point she’s trying to make.

“Sometimes I feel guilty, because I don’t feel bad about not being a human anymore. When we all went hunting for the cure, before we even knew there was just one dose… I didn’t know that I wanted it, not even then.” Her lips purse as she moves onto the next box.

He drags out a chair from the kitchen table to sit down, and when he wraps an arm around her waist to pull her in with him, she goes willingly. “Why should you feel guilty for embracing what you are?”

Because she’s better as a vampire than she ever was as a human. Because she has to drink on human blood to live. Because she prefers to look to eternity and sees unlimited possibilities instead of looking back and mourning her formerly human life.

He interrupts her thoughts when he continues, “Survival is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Caroline crumples in his arms, because those are words she’s needed to hear since she woke up in that hospital bed, a burning in her throat for something yet unknown. Hunting bunnies in Mystic Falls, every tourist she took a drink from and then compelled away their memory. Her progression has been slow, but it seems strange to value human life in the way she did after she was first turned.

“I think that’s why I need you, sometimes. To remind me of that.” Because Stefan would give anything to be human, and the only thing that he wants more than that is his brother’s happiness. Sometimes it feels like she’s the only vampire she knows who is happy with the way their life turned out. 

His arms tighten around her, and he brushes his lips against her hair. “You are a beautiful creature, and I would not want you any other way.” 

They stay like that until her breathing evens out, and even then Klaus makes no complaint when she doesn’t disentangle from his hold. Caroline forces herself to be still. For now, everything else can wait.

-x-

“How did you end up here?” he asks one night while they split a box of donuts from a local bakery. He’d gotten hungry and had gone out for a snack of his own and decided to bring one back for Caroline.

They’ve settled into a kind of routine over their time here. This time, Klaus is the one who explores a new area while Caroline handles the business that she’s grown. He makes use of the desk in his makeshift studio on occasion, but Elijah is the one who truly handles the family financial matters.

Her skin flushes prettily, a clue that she’s somehow embarrassed of the story behind it, but he still isn’t expecting her answer of, “Kol bought it for me.”

“Why would he buy you a vineyard?” The very idea is ludicrous, and he tries to frame it in his mind. He doesn’t keep in touch with his younger brother too frequently, because a call from Kol means an emergency. The last time they’d seen each other, a rare Christmas a few years ago when all of the Original siblings had been together, Kol had given him a bottle of wine and been too smug about it.

Klaus frowns and crosses the room to look closer at the bottle they’ve been drinking from. The logo is familiar, and he groans when he realizes his brother was able to sneak an inside joke past him.

Biting into a lemon filled donut, she grins and waves a hand for him to wait for her explanation. Which she still doesn’t give. “So I can’t actually tell you, because that was the condition I agreed to when he got it for me. But I’ll tell you that I was pissed when I realized he bought me a vineyard in Napa. I wanted something in Champagne, or anywhere in Italy would have been fine. No, your brother just decides that I needed to find somewhere in California wine country.”

She kicks her feet on the couch and takes another bite, arching an eyebrow like he’s supposed to be as appalled by Kol’s chosen vineyard location as she clearly was. 

“My brother bought you a plot of land that you built into a wine company, and for some reason you can’t tell me why. Can I get any more information on the topic, love?” he asks, itching to give Kol a call the first chance he has in the morning. Surely there are more answers to be had.

Passing him another donut, this time a chocolate iced with sprinkles, Caroline grins unrepentantly. “I was helping him out of some trouble, and something ended up happening that I agreed to never tell you about on the condition that he bought me a vineyard. You’re just going to have to live with it.”

Recognition passes over him in a cold sweat, and Klaus shoots up when he grasps what must have happened. “You slept with Kol,” he announces, sick with the realization.

Caroline’s jaw drops, and she slaps his arm before he can get the words out. “Seriously? That’s the conclusion you jump to?”

“What else would you try to hide from me? Why else would he buy you a vineyard?”

“I did not sleep with your brother,” she hisses, veins darkening around her eyes cluing him in to how serious she is.

Klaus pauses, tries to think rationally, and then asks again with a concerted effort to keep his voice steady, “Then why would he buy you a vineyard?”

By the end of the argument, both of the lamps on her end tables are broken and the tapestry that hung over the mantle has been ripped in half. Glass scatters on the floor when he throws his wine glass out of frustration, and everything comes to a head when Caroline screams, “That was hand-blown, you ass!”

“My apologies, love. Should I make it up to you by buying you another vineyard?”

He’s never known how to quit while he’s ahead, and she digs her fingers into the couch so hard that she rips through the upholstery. Through gritted teeth, she asks him with a snarl, “If you don’t trust me, why are you even here?”

The question catches him off guard, and he bites back his first impulse. Taking a breath, he finally answers her, “I do trust you. I do.”

“Then why are you insisting that I’ve slept with your brother? As if.” She grabs the last donut and shoves the entire thing in her mouth, and it’s only then that he remembers he was saving the best for last. A bourbon glazed one.

The triumph in her eyes lets him know that she’s perfectly aware of what she’s done.

It’s such a ridiculous thing that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Caroline is standing a few feet away from him, so much donut stuffed into her mouth that she can barely chew, and the room is destroyed. 

He can’t believe they’ve found themselves here. The years they were apart weren’t wasted, because there is nothing he enjoys more than getting to know the woman they created. Once he starts laughing, he can’t stop, especially when she finishes the donut and joins in.

“You ate the one I was saving,” he accuses her, but he’s laughing too hard to stand up straight, and he finally collapses on the couch next to her.

Her shoulders shake, and she finally says, “I was so mad! I didn’t know what to do.”

He’s still angry, a bit, but looking at the argument from a new perspective, he has to admit that Kol does have a tendency to get herself into unsavory situations. “I apologize for insinuating that you may have slept with Kol,” he eventually says, throwing an arm over her shoulder. 

“Insinuating?” she asks, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Implying, perhaps,” he admits, not protesting when she lands an elbow to his rib.

Caroline leans further into his side and then kicks her feet onto the coffee table. “Do you take it back?”

The very idea of it is ridiculous now that he’s not seeing it through clouded emotions. “I do. That was crass of me. How may I make it up to you?” He waits until she doesn’t look pissed anymore before kissing her forehead. She’s weak for those type of gesture, and this is no exception.

“Well,” she pretends to consider, leaning over and placing a hand on his chest. “I assume you’ve had time to peruse my selection of romance novels. How about we start there?”

He’s carrying her up the stairs before she finishes the question.

-x-

In the morning, Caroline wakes him up with a kiss before her lips move to his jawline. “I have an early meeting,” she whispers conspiratorially, her hands venturing under the blanket to his hips. “I can let you go back to sleep if you want.”

He’s never been one to pass such an invitation up, and he joins her in the shower to stay closer for a bit longer. Afterwards, he lingers, watching how she goes through her routine to start the day.

There is a steadiness to which she does things, how she applies her makeup and chooses her attire. Today is the launch of a new product line, and she dresses in a modern suit. Sharp black stilettos and diamond stud earrings complete the ensemble, and Klaus feels almost shabby in simple shirt and jeans with paint stains on the legs where he wipes his brushes absentmindedly.

“I love you,” he tells her when he passes her a travel mug filled with warmed blood.

He doesn’t say it often. There is an understanding between them, built more on their actions than their words. It seems trite to reduce their relationship to such a simple standard when there is so much more. Now, it is an apology for their argument the previous night, but it is a promise. He isn’t going anywhere.

Caroline smiles, pulling him in for a kiss. “Let’s go to Japan next. I’ve never been there.”

The calendar on the wall of the kitchen is filled through the end of the month, and after that it’s open. He had meant to ask her about it, but this makes sense. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” he whispers into her hair, pulling her into his arms.

To anyone else, they are a young couple, the artist waiting for his businesswoman to return from a hard day at the office. The anonymity of it is almost soothing.

-x-

“Want to come look at flights with me?” she asks, leaning against the door of what’s become his studio.

Setting his brush down, he glances at the window and his mouth tightens. “Give me a few minutes, love,” he requests. The light is dying quickly, and he wants to capture as much of it as he can before the sun dips below the horizon line.

“I’ll be in my office.” She watches him for a few moments longer before heading out.

Caroline’s office is one of the few rooms in the house he still hasn’t gone into, managing to keep himself busy with other pursuits. He’s holding a show at the winery in a week, and all of them are details of area. Caroline’s hands picking a brunch of grapes from the vine, her nails painted a deep red wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Her blond curls piled onto her head as she stands on the deck, looking over California wine country.

This is the last one that he wants to finish for it, but he sets his brush down a few minutes later. In the morning, he’ll be able to add some final touches and then he’ll just have to wait for the afternoon to make sure that the shadows are all angled properly.

Padding down the hall, he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her before looking around the rest of the room. It’s a fairly plain office in terms of setup. Like the rest of the house, the personal accents are what set it off, but the painting hung above her desk catches his eye.

“Where did you get this?” he asks, stepping in and examining it closer.

She laughs a little, turning around in her chair to look at it. “I bought it at an auction. I was there to get a set of jewels for Bonnie’s birthday, and this was the lot that came before it. I never could find the artist; I think she used a pseudonym.”

“An auction,” he whispers. The canvas is more of an abstract, covered in angry, slashing brushstrokes.

“I know it doesn’t really fit in with my usual style; that’s why I hung it in the office. I saw it, though, and I just felt really connected to it. That’s what they say about art, right? You shouldn’t buy it unless it speaks to you.” She grins softly, reaching up and taking his hand. “You’re always a critic, though. Do you like it?”

“I painted it.” He tries to remember when, what auction it would have been sold at. Was he there when she saw it? Another one of their almost connections. 

Confusion flits over her face before she repeats, “You painted this? Seriously?”

Klaus looks closer at the canvas, the blues that intermingle with the green, spreading out from the middle. The color at the center of the piece matches Caroline’s eyes, and now that he’s seen it he knows it can’t be a coincidence. He’d painted it after seeing her at Giverny, filled with regret about not sitting on the bench next to her.

“The artist’s name was Lorelei Ansel,” she protests, but there’s no force to the words.

“That was the alias I used for the paintings I did of you. My father’s name was Ansel.” The admission costs him nothing, and yet he feels his very soul has been laid bare.

Her hand squeezes his briefly as she stands up, looking between him and the painting as though seeing the truth of the connection. “Why Lorelei?” she asks at last.

He’d thought himself clever when he’d come up with it, a puzzle to which no one but himself would have the key. Even his siblings have never questioned it; they must have assumed that using a feminine name was an attempt to distance himself from his paintings. They’d understood the surname, of course, but the first was never explained to them.

“The Lorelei is a cliff in Germany off the Rhine,” he starts, finding himself unable to meet her eyes. “There were many shipwrecks there in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, and the legend eventually grew to be that there was a siren on the rocks. A woman named Lorelei who was so beautiful that Odysseus himself would have had to strap himself to the mast. That was how I felt whenever I saw you.” 

Caroline goes silent before she slots herself between his body and the painting, slipping into his arms like she belongs there, and she does.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers, stroking a hand down his back, and he lets himself believe her.

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought I was totally done with this series after I covered Caroline's travels. None of this wouldn't have been written if it hadn't been for my decision to re-read Janet Fitch's _White Oleander_ and come across this line:  
>  _She looked like a Lorelai, cause of shipwreck._


End file.
